


Releasing the grip while wishing to hold on

by Snoozydog



Series: Sleeping arrangements [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Difficult Decisions, Forced Separation, Holmes Brothers, M/M, Mycroft's Meddling, Protective Mycroft, Scheming, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-10-30 11:55:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17828087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snoozydog/pseuds/Snoozydog
Summary: John's latest behaviour against Lestrade gets severe consequences for his relationship with Sherlock.Could be read as a stand alone I guess but makes more sense if you read the other fics of Sleeping arrangements first, or at least the previous one.





	1. consequences

“You see what happens when you get involved emotionally with other people. It immediately turns into a hassle and it simply can’t be worth the trouble. People are so needy, it’s what constitutes most relationships in my experience. You and I are simply too rational for all the clutter that comes along with emotional entanglements.”

Sherlock glares at his brother who has seated himself in John’s chair, umbrella neatly leaning against the side, teacup primly held over the saucer while taking a sip of the Darjeeling he has brought with him on account of Sherlock never having any acceptable brands of tea in his kitchen. 

This is obviously a planned visit. If Mycroft has made the effort of bringing his own tea and even taking the time to prepare it himself, he must have put aside a gap in his schedule for this occasion. 

He is also the bearer of bad news.

Sherlock has been enlightened by a very upset Mrs Hudson of the tumultuous events that had taken place between John and Lestrade in his absence. The state of the living room has also given him the necessary clues he needed to form his opinion of what had occurred in there, filling in the gaps Mrs Hudson hadn’t been able to provide.   
The big question mark still remaining is the **reason** why this happened. 

He knows about John’s jealousy of course, it has been evident since before they became a couple and he has even taken advantage of that weakness previously to speed the process along on occasions when John’s stubbornness was preventing him from acting according to his actual feelings.   
Like the situation with Sebastian Wilkes.   
Sherlock had gone on that date to show John that if he wasn’t prepared to give in to his supressed feelings and just surrender, Sherlock had other options and no problem flaunting exactly what John would be missing out on.   
Even if Sherlock hadn’t counted on John actually showing up at the restaurant and wedging himself between Sebastian and his intentions, he had at least felt that a seed of enlightenment had been sown in the excruciatingly strong-headed former army doctor’s head, offering a closer look at what he was missing out on because he was too scared to take the step from just flatmates to flatmates with benefits. 

Sure, Sherlock isn’t an expert on relationships or even on human nature, he has managed to bungle up most associations he has with people around him, but the temptation to embark on this new experience with John had been too difficult to resist. He knew that it was a risk, but almost everything Sherlock did in life was lined with risk-taking, and he always had such difficulty saying no when really wanting something. 

But now, when he looks at this mess that is threatening not only his private life but his work as well, he wonders if the price isn’t too high to pay. 

In addition to that insight, he hates the idea of Mycroft being right about anything.   
He is always so aggravatingly smug about being right, treating Sherlock like a ten-year-old who never has a clue about anything.

Sherlock had just stepped inside the living room, looking around the mess in there to piece together Mrs Hudson erratic story about a fight and the police coming to arrest John and Lestrade bleeding all over his clothes, when there had been the heavy tread of his brother’s footsteps on the stairs, heading his way with determination, probably full of smugness and further details of what exactly had caused this mess.

After locking eyes and reading each other ( _2 pound weight gain since last time, tension around the eyes, most likely from lack of sufficient sleep, must mean work related problems or…_ ) 

No! Sherlock mentally shakes that idea from his head. 

Because Mycroft is all about mind and logic, never empathy, never any feelings. 

People think Sherlock’s a psychopath, but they should see Mycroft then, in all his detached glory.   
He’s just better at hiding it, the people he works with don’t really care what his private life consists of, as long as he comes up with the results they require, do the job he’s there to do.   
Sure, they probably whisper, amongst themselves, but Mycroft doesn’t care, because he doesn’t care about _them_.   
Mycroft has learned how to detach himself but Sherlock never really mastered that trait, always a bit too curious for his own good, wanting to belong despite despising most people, writing them off as imbeciles.   
That doesn’t mean that he wants to be alone. 

He thought he did before. 

Before meeting Lestrade, before starting to work with Scotland Yard.   
Before John Watson moved in. 

In hindsight he can see that being alone wasn’t good for him. Now that he has experienced what it is like to have people in his life, he doesn’t want to give that up. But he sure has made a mess of things.

Mycroft tells him what he knows while making the tea.   
From the police report that he has got his hands on, it can be read that DI Gregory Lestrade had entered the flat of 221 B Baker Street looking for Mr Sherlock Holmes regarding a work-related matter. Instead he had run into Doctor John Watson who had displayed a hostile tone in conversation with DI Lestrade and then, unprovoked, had started a physical altercation resulting in DI Lestrade receiving several injures and the furniture of the residence being partly destroyed. Temporarily interrupted by the building’s landlady Mrs Martha Hudson, DI Lestrade managed to call for back-up which arrived soon after, arresting Doctor Watson for physical assault, taking him in to custody. 

Lestrade has decided to press charges. Because why wouldn’t he?   
He has been injured after all and he doesn’t like John.   
Sherlock tries figuring out he feels about a probable court case happening, but ends up thinking more about how things are going to be from now on, more so than whatever fates Lestrade or John are suffering at the moment. 

John is going to be in a hell of a state when getting released, probably angry and grumpy and worried about court proceedings, his reputation, his work at the clinic and other mundane things that clutters his head with concern.   
Sherlock can concede that a court case can get tricky, despite Mycroft most likely providing a competent lawyer. Too many witnesses and the fact that Lestrade is a member of the police will work against John and 6 months in prison is the maximum sentence for a crime like this, but John is a first time offender and Lestrade, despite being beaten, hasn’t suffered any severe damages, more like a bleeding nose, some bruises and scrapes, so most likely it will end with just a fine. A hefty one, but still just a fine.

Sherlock watches his brother seat himself, offering a cup of tea and then leaning backwards, to ease into the comfort of John’s chair. He truly is a creature of comfort, almost resembling a fat lazy cat curling up in contentment where he is seated in the chair, one leg crossed over the other, stirring the tea with a spoon.  
There are no guarantees that his brother will provide a lawyer for John. Mycroft isn’t a huge enthusiast of the new developments between his brother and the doctor and right now he is positively radiating with disapprovement about the latest events. Getting involved romantically and/or sexually with anyone has never worked out well for Sherlock and this is a new shining example of that old lesson. 

“Doctor Watson is still being held under arrest and will not be released until I say so. I need you to really make the right decisions about how you want to proceed with this matter, Sherlock. As it is now, you’re risking everything on account of a man who has severe issues with jealousy and trust. Am I to take it that you have informed him of your past with Lestrade or is he still harbouring resentment about those pictures in the press?”

Sherlock can’t help but feel his gut clench slightly when Mycroft mentions Lestrade and the past. Even if Mycroft always knows everything he has never brought up this incident before and a part of Sherlock had hoped that it was something his brother had actually happened to miss. 

When he doesn’t reply Mycroft sighs and puts the cup back in the saucer and then down on the table next to him. 

“Of course I know about that. I saw the feed on CCTV myself. At the time I even contemplated doing something about it…”

“Like what? He didn’t do anything illegal!”

“No. But he took advantage of the situation. You were too affected by chemical substances to know what you were doing and with who. A clear indication was your reluctance to acknowledge the incident afterwards and that idiotic plan of driving him away by engaging in sexual activities with his co-workers instead of just telling him off. As I understand it, the detective inspector has had a hard time understanding that you don’t reciprocate his feelings, but really Sherlock. This is a new standard of childishness, even for you. And look where it has led you. Losing both a work connection and a flatmate.”

Sherlock narrows his eyes while he listens.   
He absolutely hates getting a lecture from Mycroft.   
He would rather gouge his eyes out then be listening to this. But he can see that Mycroft won’t let the subject drop. Despite them both being adults Mycroft has never been able to shake the feeling that his little brother is still just the same clueless child he was when they were young. 

If Sherlock had been an only child he would have been thought of as remarkable and quite extraordinary with his intelligence and observational skills. But having Mycroft as his older brother, people had already been exposed to _his_ brilliant intellect and tended to consider Sherlock as more of a quirky smart-arse without social skills. 

_The bane of my life, being Mycroft Holmes younger brother_

Because not only was he in constant competition with someone of an ever more superior intellect than his own, Mycroft has the annoying habit of having every millimetre of Sherlock’s life under constant scrutiny, ready to condescend over every step he makes and always trying to decide how Sherlock should run his own life. 

In Sherlock's late teens and early twenties it had been almost unbearable and they had butted heads with constant frequency.   
It had been during those years that Sherlock first met Lestrade and Mycroft hadn’t liked it one bit, probably feeling like someone else was trying to control what he felt was rightfully his, on account of being family. 

But it has mellowed a bit over the years, or perhaps Sherlock has learned to ignore his brother more effectively. He has even been able to partly ignore his brother’s misgivings about his relationship with John. But now it seems Mycroft has reached the end of his tether. 

“What do you mean I have lost a flatmate? There’s no indication that John is going to leave because of this. Quite contrary. If he’s willing to punch Lestrade out of some stupid misplaced possessiveness, he isn’t likely to move out and leave me to my own devices.”

“I have difficulty believing that you would give up your work on account of a relationship that isn’t even long enough to be called a true commitment on your part. So far all you have engaged in are the baser needs of a sexual exchange, I wouldn’t call it a relationship to begin with. It has the nature of being more like a fling. The unfortunate doctor might be in at bit deeper, but I’m sure prison might have a sobering effect on him.”

Sherlock widens his eyes in bafflement.

“Prison? Have you completely lost it, brother? Why on earth would he end up in prison on account of something like this?”

Mycroft simply tuts critically at Sherlock's outburst.

“He assaulted a detective inspector. A detective inspector who is also an acquaintance of yours. A highly thought of contact, despite everything that has happened between you.”

“I highly doubt even Lestrade would like to see John go to prison over this. Besides, circumstances aren’t likely to end with such a sentence. Six months in prison for a first-time offender is highly doubtful. It was more of a brawl than a severe assault after all.”

Mycroft pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a second. Apparently it is a hardship to lord it over a wayward younger brother on a daily basis.   
Sherlock sighs and is tempted to ask his brother to leave. On the other hand, Mycroft probably has some say in when John can get released from custody and they still need that lawyer. Best be treading lightly. 

“So, you’re making excuses for him now, Sherlock?” Mycroft answers after opening his eyes again, masking his disappointment with indifference. 

“No! What he did was beyond stupid and he will be hearing about it when gets home. But legally speaking, he isn’t risking prison, I can’t see that happening in this case. Unless someone makes sure that it does happen.”

The last part is said with a cautionary undertone. Because what is Mycroft hinting at? Not even Lestrade will insist on a prison sentence, despite what he feels about John.   
And besides, he can't control the legal system like that.   
But Mycroft can…

While Sherlock contemplates that fact, Mycroft continues to speak.

“I’m afraid I can’t let this situation continue any further, brother dear. It isn’t healthy to be under the influence of someone who can’t even control himself. This time it was the detective inspector who had the misfortune of ending up on the wrong side of his wrath, but who’s to say it won’t be you next time?”

Sherlock simply gawks at his brother. What is this? Has his brother truly lost his senses?   
John would never hit Sherlock! Not like that.

“Oh, you think he wouldn’t?” Mycroft interjects his thoughts, “Because I seem to recall him having you pinned to the carpet, both hands in a firm lock, only a short time before you two embarked on this tumultuous relationship of yours. He clearly has a short temper and so far that has led to several unpremeditated decisions on his part. Why you have put up with it is beyond me, but I can assure you that it ends now.”

Sherlock jumps out of his chair, knocking the tea cup to the floor in his haste, shortening the distance between himself and his brother.

“You can’t do that!”

“I can and I will. Either he moves out of here as soon as possible or he will be put behind bars. Six months can do a lot to a man when in prison. It can even cure him of this stupid fixation he has on you and without his constant presence you can also have the possibility to move on and focus on what’s important for you. That which has always been the most important to you until recently.”

“I haven’t compromised my work on account of him!” Sherlock protests.

“By letting your jealous boyfriend assault your strongest link to Scotland Yard, I would indeed say you have compromised your work. If this is to continue it can very well end up costing you everything you have worked for during the last couple of years. I can’t watch you risk it all for this man, however good I thought he was for you when he initially moved in here. These last developments have shown me the dangers of a continuation of your relationship and by his own wrong-doing this afternoon he has put himself in this situation.”

The urge to grab his brother and just shake him is overwhelming, but Sherlock knows that it won’t solve anything. They have never really fought physically, not even as children. Mycroft has always been considered too old and much larger than Sherlock, it never seemed fair. But right now he can almost understand the satisfaction John obviously feels when letting his urges to strike out against someone be released.   
Sherlock's instinct has always been to lash out verbally instead, or if that didn’t work, turn to drugs.   
None of those options can help him now. 

Mycroft won’t budge, despite arguments, and turning to drugs will only make matters worse.   
No one will like that option, not even John. _Especially_ not John. Because John cares for Sherlock, always has, hopefully always will, but now he will be forced to leave. 

Sherlock tries another tactic.

“If you do this, I ‘ll never speak to you again.”

But Mycroft isn't budging.

“I’m willing to take that risk. What I’m _not_ willing to do is compromise your safety.”

“For God’s sake, he isn’t dangerous! If anything, I’m the one who’s a bad influence!”

“Yet another reason this relationship needs to end. You are simply not good for each other. With time you’ll both see that.”

“You can’t just force us to not be together. Even if he moves out, we will still see each other. Not even you can control everything 24 hours a day.”

“Perhaps. But without the discount he's been offeren on this flat and your shared economy, do you really think he can afford to keep living in central London? He’ll have to move out to the suburbs. And frankly, I have a difficult time seeing him joining you on cases from at least one, possibly two hours commute from here. Most likely you won’t have the patience to wait that long and he can’t just drop everything on the blink of an eye whenever you want him to. But fine, I won’t be so cruel as to hinder you completely, I think circumstances will take care of whatever remaining flame there might exist between you after this.”

Sherlock is beginning to feel desperate now and lashes out. What John did was wrong and he needs to make it up to Lestrade, but this is too unfair, too definite. Mycroft can't really be serious in his intentions about cutting John out of Sherlock's life like this!

“So you want me to go back to what I was before he moved in here? Lonely? More prone to taking drugs out of boredom? To remind you, I don’t have the finances to keep up this place on my own either. That’s why I wanted a flatmate in the first place. Luckily for me he turned out to be a great companion as well.”

“I have given that situation some serious thought and have come to the conclusion that given your history with getting involved with other people, it might be for the best if you live alone for a while. I will provide the necessary means for you to keep living here and in the end, when you have had some distance to all of this, you’ll see that it’s the right decision for both of you.”

Hearing those words, sensing that Mycroft is not going to change his mind despite whatever arguments Sherlock might throw at him, he finally loses it.

“Get out!”

Quickly he moves over to the door and slams it open, pointing at it with his whole arm. 

Mycroft looks disapprovingly at him but finally concedes that he can't turn the situation when his brother is behaving like this. With measured movements he rises from the chair, picking up his umbrella and walks over to where his brother is standing, waiting for him to leave.

“This is for your own sake, Sherlock...”

“Leave!”

Mycroft takes a deep breath, looking like he wants to say something more, but nothing comes and giving his brother a final look he walks out of the door which slams shut behind his back, missing him by mere millimetres. With heavy steps he begins decending the stairs while picking up his cell phone.   
Time to release John Watson and get him packing from this place.


	2. Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John faces his new life situation without Sherlock.

John Watson finds himself back in the suburbs less than a week after the fight with Lestrade. 

It has all happened in such a quick fashion that he hasn’t truly had time to grasp what’s happened to him and he sits down in a one-room flat in Hounslow that is apparently his now, trying to wrap his head around how he ended up here. 

After being picked up from the police station, the black car had taken him straight to a hotel room where Mycroft Holmes had waited for him, umbrella and sharp suit in place, a grim look on his face. 

John had been agitated, just like Sherlock had predicted, but Mycroft didn’t move a muscle when informing him that his relationship with Sherlock had now come to an end and that John’s things were going to be packed up within the next few days.

“Until you’ve settled in a new home, you can stay here. At my expense. It’s reasonably close to the clinic where you currently work and not at all close to your old home. My assistant is going to help you find new suitable accommodations, not in the city of course, your pay won’t cover such expences, but a suitable place where there are also options for other clinics of your choosing.”

“What…?!” John had spluttered and that has frankly been his state of mind since that first statement from Mycroft, locked in perpetual confusion and shock, not until recently beginning to release its grip. 

The first blow had been Mycroft’s words about his relationship with Sherlock being over. 

He was not informed on whose order, but considering the history Sherlock shares with Lestrade, it might very well have been his.  
John threatened "The Work" when ending up in a fight with the detective inspector and if it there is something Sherlock never would tolerate, it is meddling with his occupation. It is what makes him breathe after all. Without it he would have succumbed to drugs long ago. Everyone knows this and yet John hadn’t been able to stop himself. Stupid!

But he barely had the time to digest the first blow before Mycroft delivered the next one. About his living arrangements. 

Moving out of Baker Street? 

He somehow never imagined things to go like this. Sure, Sherlock could be unreasonable in his own way, but not when it came to petty things like throwing someone out from their home. He knew how difficult it would be to find a new flat. 

And what was Mycroft’s role in this? Why was _he_ paying for a hotel room? Why was _his_ assistant looking for places in the suburbs for John to move into?

“Whose idea is this?” he managed to hiss and Mycroft had the audacity to not even look perturbed, just giving one of his condescending looks, drumming the umbrella handle with his spindly fingers.

“That really is of no significance, the end result will be the same, whoever initiated this. But to really make it clear, Doctor Watson, you yourself is the conductor of your own fate. Certain actions have consequences. Violence against a member of the law is one of those.”

Ignoring that last little nugget of reproach John went straight for the obvious question:

“And why are _you_ helping me?”

“I am pragmatic. Leaving things to their own devices will lead us nowhere and might mean that you continue to live in Baker Street for months. I understand that finding accommodations is difficult under the best of circumstances, if we want a quick resolution to this situation I’m willing to pay extra for a swift solution. The quicker you are out of the immediate vicinity of Baker Street, the better. “

John had glared at Mycroft, but too many thoughts had swirled in his head for him to focus on what exactly Mycroft was implying. With the impending court trial, Sherlock breaking up with him, the move, everything - it was all too much. And the only one he had to depend on right now was Mycroft Bloody Holmes with his superior airs and clinical view on things. 

Before he had the opportunity to say anything else, Mycroft had delivered the final, and frankly most disturbing blow of all.

“While you’re still in the city you are forbidden to approach either Baker Street or Sherlock. If you attempt to do it anyway my men are informed to take physical action against you. They are trained to be the very best so I wouldn’t try my luck if I were you.”

“But…Am I not allowed any parting words with him?”

“Not now. Perhaps one day, when time has passed and you have settled into your new living situation, something can be arranged. If it is still wanted of course. As I am sure you have learned by now, my brother isn’t much for dabbling in matters of the heart. Just look where getting _involved_ ended up, for both of you.”

With that Mycroft had left, leaving John with his head reeling. 

His next move had been to call Sherlock, but it turned out his phone never made it from Baker Street to the police station and when trying to call from the landline of the hotel the number was suspiciously unable to connect. 

The next day the same black car which had taken him to the hotel yesterday took him to the clinic and when he came back in the afternoon, a few of his clothes as well as other personal items, were waiting for him on the bed.

The day after that Anthea was the one to pick him up from work, taking the extra care to accompany him to a flat in Hounslow. 

John had never been to Hounslow before and after having experienced the buzzing city life and what it meant to be living in the middle of it, he immediately took a dislike to the place. But if Mycroft was pragmatic, then his PA was like a copy of her employer, same views and ideas ingrained in her. She listened to him beginning to complain but cut him of before he had the chance to really get started.

“This is what you can afford on your salary as a locum doctor. There is also a two-bedroom flat in Croydon available but frankly, why would you need two bedrooms? This flatsharing business was clearly not working for you. And the commute from Croydon is slightly trickier. This is a good offer, Doctor Watson. You can move in tomorrow if you want.”

“No. Of course I don’t _want_ to! I want to return to the home I had until two days ago! The life I had there.”

“That is not an option. Neither is staying in the hotel for any longer period of time. If you don’t take what we offer within two week you will be left homeless and your belongings will be put in a storage until you find a place on your own. But keep in mind, the way you acquired Baker Street is not likely to happen again. Lightning doesn’t strike twice in the same place.” 

_Don’t I know it…_ he thought bitterly and reluctantly agreed to the flat, because right now something was slowly breaking inside him and if he was going to end up homeless as well, he might end up with that gun in his hand, contemplating dark thoughts again. The ones he had before he met Sherlock.

And that’s why he is now sitting on the simple single bed in the flat in Hounslow, contemplating how he ever ended up in this situation and if there is something he can possibly do to turn things around, to get his life back to what it was less than a week ago.

What he misses the most is Sherlock of course.  
He misses everything about him, both physically but also as a presence he has grown used to, despite all the madness surrounding his former flatmate and boyfriend.

Boyfriend… 

The word has a strange taste in his mouth, they hardly had the time to define what they actually were to each other before everything came to a screeching halt. And now everything is just awful. Like someone has come and turned off the light, leaving John in the dark.

He has the gun though.

It was neatly packed with his other belongings and when he sees the boxes with everything he owns, which frankly isn’t much, he wonders what his life really is worth? Three cardboard boxes with useless stuff and a gun. 

That gun might be the only thing of value now.

When he first saw the boxes he had searched through them, vainly hoping that Sherlock might have left a message somewhere or just simply something, a reminder, anything.  
But the items are all his, nothing more, nothing less. His life neatly packed up, sealed and delivered. No need to ever contact Baker Street for anything regarding his belongings, nothing to use as an excuse to go there and knock on the door. 

He remembers Mycroft threat of physical punishment if he tries, but he would gladly take it if given the opportunity to talk to Sherlock, see him again, perhaps explain. But it’s Sherlock’s silence that stops him from doing this.

Because the man hasn’t reached out to him since John punched Lestrade. 

John has no idea what he’s thinking, but clearly he can’t be happy with John if he has decided on a clean break like this. The message couldn’t be more straight forward. 

And that is sadly just in line with the effectiveness that is Sherlock Holmes. Because Mycroft had been right about one thing, Sherlock doesn’t usually waste his time on matters of the heart, too messy and illogical. 

But still, John had thought he was the exception to that rule. The one Sherlock was _willing_ to be messy and illogical with. 

It hurts more than he can fathom to be proven wrong and it takes all his willpower to bite down the scream of pure agony he wants to let lose.  
The walls of his new flat are rather thin, the neighbours would probably call the police and the last thing he needs is another turn with the long arm of the law. He can make do with the court proceedings he has coming up by the end of the month. 

And worst of all, he has no one to blame but himself.

So he sits there on the bed, unsure of what to do, turning the gun over and over in his hands. 

This is somehow reminiscent of the time before he met Sherlock, when John had also felt utterly alone and useless, with no purpose in life. 

Strange how things can be so similar _after_ meeting Sherlock as well. Like the months in between has made no difference at all.


	3. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John get a visit from an unexpected guest and makes a decision.

It’s Lestrade who reaches out first. 

John comes home from a long shift at the clinic, because now, when he has nothing else to occupy his time, all his shifts are long and the clinic manager is even considering offering a full-time employment when summer comes, if John is still interested. John is _not_ particularly interested but what else is he going to do with his time? Sit and stare at the walls of his sad flat in Hounslow?

The detective inspector is stepping out of a car when John approaches the block of flats where he now lives.   
He still carries signs of their fight on his face but otherwise he looks pretty much the same as he always does, slightly rumpled suit, hair looking a little more silver every time John sees him and today he has that scarf that once spiked John’s jealousy when seeing it left behind on Sherlock’s desk.   
That seems like ages ago now and yet that was such a strong indication of how out of hand John’s jealousy had gone considering his possessiveness of Sherlock.   
It was jus a left-behind scarf for God’s sake! 

Sherlock told him that nothing ever happened between him and Lestrade, except for that unfortunate night years ago and then that one-sided kiss of course. 

Objectively John can grasp that he was overreacting, too bad he is nowhere near reasonable when jealousy strikes.   
That’s what landed him in this position, living in bloody Hounslow, cut out of Sherlock’s life, obsessively cleaning his gun every other night when he gets home.   
He’s not sure why he’s doing that, it’s just a compulsion at the moment, perhaps it's a coping mechanism. Get home from work, open up a beer, clean the gun, go to sleep, and then repeat, he’s been doing it for over a week now. 

He wonders why Lestrade is here.   
They are to meet in court soon enough, the DI has pressed charges after all. 

John’s employer doesn’t know this yet, he wonders if it will cost him his job and if it does, is he not going to be able to pay for this shitty one-room flat out in the suburbs that he hates anyway but that is the only thing he has at the moment?   
He would feel like a failure if he being forced to turn to unemployment benefits, register as unemployed, start all over again, maybe move even further away from the city.   
All because of a fist fight with the man who now patiently waits for him to approach. He is clearly here for a reason and John doesn’t know if he should be angry or suspicious over the fact that Lestrade has done the effort to seek him out.

Then a thought hits him.

What if it’s Sherlock who has sent him?

He hasn’t heard a peep from his former flatmate since Mycroft met him in that hotel room and informed John that his life as he formerly knew it was not to be anymore.   
His first thought had been that it was Sherlock who had ordered him to leave their home, but the more he has thought about it, he has difficulty believing Sherlock would be using his brother to do his own dirty work. Sherlock is more than capable of telling people off, in fact he excels at it, using his most barbed tones and acerbic phrasings. But John can’t know for sure and as he still hasn’t heard from the man himself he can’t be certian of anything. 

He has contemplated disobeying Mycroft’s orders of staying away, but a part of him still ponders the fact that Sherlock hasn’t made any attempts to contact him. Maybe he actually doesn’t want to see John?   
It certainly seems like it considering his lack of effort trying to reach out. So John has decided to leave it for now, wait for the trial and perhaps make a move after that.

But now Lestrade is here and that surely must mean something?   
He wouldn’t come here just to taunt John, would he? The jury is likely to judge in the D.I's favour, he is a policeman after all, there were witnesses as well and John isn’t so cowardly that he will deny his violent actions. No, Lestrades's reason for being here must be something else.

When John reaches the other man he stops in front of him, nods in acknowledgement and waits for Lestrade to state his business. 

“How are you doing?”

The question is surprising and not at all what John expected. He doesn’t know what to say so he just shrugs.

“Can we have a word? In your place perhaps? It feels a bit strange standing out here on the street,” Lestrade says calmly and it’s surprising how like himself he sounds, no supressed anger or resentment. Just like the reasonable man he always sets out to be, like he sounds most of the time. It’s baffling considering the circumstances.

“Yeah, sure, you can come up. Warning though, I just moved in so the place…well, you know, I haven’t really…unpacked.”

“It will probably look more sorted than the Baker Street flat anyway,” Lestrade muses and if John wasn’t so far down in his own misery he would have cracked a smile. As it is now, all it achieves is to remind him of the place that is no longer his home. He never thought he would miss clutter, biohazardous experiments and dusty surfaces as much as he does now that it’s gone. 

If Lestrade have any thoughts about John’s new flat he doesn’t express them, not with mimicry or with words, he just steps right in, lets his gaze roam the place before seating himself down on the sofa.   
John sits himself opposite him, on the bed, hands between his knees, waiting for the other man to state his business.

“So…this is a bit of a surprise…,” Lestrade begins, looking straight at John. His brown eyes are calm. Damn the man for succeeding to look like everything is normal and as things should be. But for him they probably are. Nothing’s really changed for him.

Reluctantly John decides to actually answer without letting what he says be tainted by what he feels.

“Yeah. It wasn’t exactly voluntary, but you know, it beats being homeless.”

Lestrade tilts his head slightly, still assessing him and there is a question in his eyes.

“You know, I have a hard time believing Sherlock threw you out. He hasn’t said anything himself of course, because he doesn’t really answer his bloody phone when I call him but Mrs Hudson is just overflowing with useful information.”

John gives him a sharp look at the mention of his former landlady. It's strange how quickly you forget the other people in your life when you only focus on the one. John never even bothered to give the old lady an explanation when he moved, the last she saw of John was him being hauled of by two officers in a police car.

“Did she tell you where I was?” He is actually surprised that she would know this but Lestrade shakes his head.

“Well, no. Because she didn’t actually know, did she? All she knew was that Mycroft’s people had cleared the flat of your belongings and paid the final rent as well as the subsequent two months, informing her that you were going to move out. “

John feels a bit bad for not reaching out to her. He doesn’t know if Mycroft’s ban includes her as well, but he should at least have made the effort, giving her a call. Unfortunately, his mind has been focusing on Sherlock as usual. It's not en excuse, merely a fact, however wrong it may be.

“So, how did you find me?”

“The whole thing reeks of Mycroft Holmes so I figured the best way to find out would be to ask your boss at the clinic. Mrs Hudson knew where you worked, so it was easy really.”

“And why exactly have you come here? We are to meet in less than two weeks anyway. In court.”

“About that. I have decided to drop the charges. It might be against all my initial reasoning for pressing charges in the first place, but after seeing what this whole thing has led to, I don’t really feel like I should anymore.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you are living in bloody Hounslow for God’s sake! That's even more of a lesson than I initially thought pressing charges against you would teach. Robbed of both home and love, it's all a bit too harsh. And also, despite not having met him since the fight, Sherlock is probably not happy about this. My suspicions are that Mycroft Holmes has taken action against you two continuing your little liaison and in the end, despite everything, I care enough about Sherlock not to want to see him unhappy.”

John stares at him, because this is not at all what he is expecting. He doesn’t know how to respond to any of this, it feels like it’s the wrong person who is talking like this, it shouldn’t be Lestrade. Lestrade is his rival, for God's sake! They have never truly got on that well and most certainly not after John found out about his past with Sherlock, and Lestrade in turn found out about John and Sherlock getting together. It’s all been a poisonous mess ever since.

“I honestly don’t know who wanted me kicked out of Baker Street, it all happened so fast. I hoped that it wasn’t Sherlock of course, but I haven’t heard a peep from him so I don’t really know. You are very important to him, whatever opinions I have of you, and he was probably upset about me risking the bond you two have. You know how he is about his work.”

“Yes, don’t I know it. And the same can be said about you and your feelings towards me, you haven’t exactly been subtle about it.”

John can’t help but glare but at least he isn’t taking the bait, trying to start something up. He isn’t willing to end up in another useless fight. He has payed a too high price regarding the first one.

“Forget my comment, I haven’t come here to start things with you," Lestrade says. "Whatever we might feel about each other, I sort of get it. If I had Sherlock Holmes as my boyfriend, I would hate it too if he was running around with someone else half of the time. Sexual or not, it would disturb me. But as I don’t have the luxury of having him, I can’t really know how I would react.”

John sighs.

“Well, I don’t really have him anymore either. So that makes two of us. And for what it's worth, I know I did wrong when I started that fight with you. I don’t really know why being with him brings out all this anger in me. I never considered myself jealous or possessive until him. It’s like I'm making up for all the years when I never had one single jealous thought or possessive streak in me. It’s something about him I think. He used to drive me crazy half of the time even before we got together, it all just got amplified when we finally became a couple. “

Lestrade laughs at this and it’s only partially bitter.

“I know exactly what you mean. Before you, there was me, remember? And despite never having had him like you did, crazy is very much the word I would use to describe what he did to my mind. Everything about him is messed up and at the same time he’s the best experience you’ll ever have. That’s the trouble with him, you don’t want to let go and return to the grey and ordinary that used to be life before meeting him.”

John nods because that’s the truest thing he has heard in ages. 

Lestrade has obviously had some time to come to terms with his feelings about Sherlock and what being allowed to be in his vicinity is actually costing him.   
It can’t be easy, John isn’t sure he would be able to do it himself, being in Sherlock’s presence but never be allowed to touch or breach any boundaries.   
Poor bastard, it must be torture.

“I basically came here to see how you were doing, which is strange considering circumstances. Sherlock would probably call it stupid sentimentality, on the other that would hardly be the worst thing he has called me over the years,” Lestrade quips dryly.

Finally John lets a smile touch his lips. It feels strange but at the same time like something has lifted slightly from his chest. Everything is far from solved and if Lestrade is right about it being Mycroft who has orchestrated this separation it might be even more difficult to get his life back, but at lest this has given him some hope and the energy he needs to pull himself together. 

As they seems to be opening up to each other a thought suddenly strikes him, something that has occupied his own thoughts from time to time but he never found a way to bring up, despite driving himself mad wondering about it.

“Did you know that he slept with Donovan and Dimmock before we got together? On several occasion apparently.”

Lestrades’s eyes go wide, before his brow knits in confusion. 

“Say what?”

John shakes his head, because of course Lestrade wouldn't know about this. It must be quite a shock to hear it, perhaps even more so than it had been for him.

“I sort of found out about Dimmock by accident, or at least had my suspicions about it, but what really started the whole thing was me asking Sherlock about you. He told me about a night years ago that you had shared, but proceeded to tell me how he had hooked up with Donovan and Dimmock in an attempt to shake you off.”

It takes Lestrade a full minute to really absorb this new information. He looks like he has been slapped straight in the face and is about to lose his calm, reacting like John did when he found out. But then, he just inflates instead and he sags a little where he is sitting on the sofa. As if something is finally hitting him.

“He truly is a complete idiot when it comes to human behaviour, isn’t he? I always suspected he used his so called sociopathic label as an excuse to be a dick to everyone or perhaps the drugs were a part of it as well. But he hasn’t used in ages now and as far as I know there is no official diagnose done on him. But this truly proves the man to be completely useless when it comes to people and human interactions. Why the hell did he sleep with those two idiots and why the hell did _they_ agree to it?”

“He said word would get around to you eventually if it was with someone you worked with and that it would kill your interest in him or at least drive home the message that he wasn’t interested. I know, it’s sounds completely bonkers and deep down he might have known that as well, the reasoning is certainly not up to his usual standard.”

“What a prick! And how embarrassing for me. They must have all laughed behind my back, poor old Lestrade being all clueless while the younger consultant he has a crush on is sleeping with all his co-workers. I mean, _Dimmock_? That idiot’s been after my position for years. He knows what Sherlock does to my team’s crime solving rate, I wouldn’t put anything past him. But to actually sleep with Sherlock? Jeez! And Donovan? As far as I know she hates him! Why the hell did she agree to this?”

“Why do any of us do it?” John asks and Lestrade contemplates his words, sighing heavily. He's clearly upset but he hasn't errupted like John would have. More than anything else he seems resigned.

“True that. But for you and me, there’s more to it, isn’t there? Feelings, lust, fascination, love even. I don’t see that in Donovan’s eyes when she looks at him and calls him the freak.”

“Guess you have to ak her why she did it then."

Lestrade vehemently shakes his head.

“As hell I will, she’s going to bite my head off I do that. It's probably better if she never finds out that I know anyway."

They fall quiet for a moment, each contemplating this new information, it's frankly been a lot. Finally Lestrades draws his hand tiredly over his features and looks at John again.

“So…what now?”

John sighs because he's been wondering the same himself, without being able to come up with an answer.

“I’m not sure actually. I guess this thing with the trial is over as you have dropped the charges, and for that I might add, thank you. I was extremly stupid and thoughtless, as we all seem to get when around that madman, and I would have faced my charges if I had been forced to do it, but still, I’m glad you dropped them. I don’t know how that stands with Mycroft and his ban though. He more or less threatened physical harm if I so much as approached Baker Street.”

“He must know that I’ve dropped the charges, he always knows everything. But if he hasn’t contacted you I would guess that the ban still stands.”

John contemplates this and then shakes his head slowly, as if coming to a conclusion.

“You know what. We have done some dumb _shit_ recently, that fist fight being a shining example of just that and I fully take responsibility for it. But Sherlock isn’t completely innocent in all this, is he?”

Lestrade meets his eyes, a bit sceptical but at least listening.

“Well, I guess not…?”

“His stupid idea of sleeping with your co-workers instead of just telling you that he didn’t fancy you for instance, all because he was afraid he would lose the connection you mean to his work. But there’s more. He knew that I had begun developing some sort of feelings for him and further more, that I was very possessive and jealous even before we got together. You should have seen him the weeks prior to us finally becoming an item. He practically flaunted himself and his assessts in front of me whenever he could, driving me half mad with desire, forcing me to take cold showers and lock myself in my own room to get some peace of mind. The final straw was him going out with a client who apparently also was an old acquaintance from University. They actually went out to dinner and he must have known or at least suspected that I wasn’t going to just take it, him going out with someone else.”

“You got it really bad for him, don’t you?”

“Yes. The problem was that I didn’t know what part was him simply manipulating me and what part might actually be him going out with someone and actually enjoying it. I wasn’t going to risk being wrong and him ending up with someone else, so I crashed the dinner date and more or less dragged him away. Not one of my proudest moments, but neither do I regret it. We never did talk about it afterwards, we got caught up in the new relationship and each other and time just went, but in the back of my mind I have never managed to shake that feeling of not knowing if everything that he does and his interaction with other people is him manipulating me or if there are real threats to our relationship. Like that kiss between you and him in the paper. He said that it was all you but I didn’t fully believe him and it has eaten me up inside that I have never known the full truth about anything.”

“That kiss was all me. I saw that things were developing between you two and I just went for it, figured it was my last chance to know if I was going to have any luck with him. And frankly, despite what you just told me, I think he is rather clueless most of the time about how people react to him. And most importantly, he doesn’t care about the flirtatious glances people give him. He seems happy with you actually, however much it pains me to say it.”

John lets this sink in and it warms him inside to hear it, driving away some of his insecurity, but he still can’t shake the feeling that Sherlock perhaps should be thought a lesson or something. 

“Mycroft technically doesn’t have anything on me now, but Sherlock hasn’t gotten in contact with me either. Maybe he’s waiting for me to make the first move, he knows me after all and it is what I would usually do.”

“Yeah, I was rather surprised to learn that you just moved out, no fight, no nothing. And even stayed in place out here. It didn’t seem like the John Watson I thought you were.”

John sits himself down on the bed again, or else he might start pacing like Sherlock does during a difficult case. The flat is simply too small for pacing anyway.

“Well a part of me didn’t know if it was Sherlock who had wished for me to leave and his silence hasn’t shaken me out of that presumption either. I guess I wanted to follow his wishes, if they were actually his.”

“So, in the end, this is all yet again the result of you not knowing what he thinks and feels?” Lestrade shakes his head in disbelief and John understands him because he know how it sounds now when he hears it himself.

“I guess so.”

“Maybe you should drive home some sort of point if you are to continue to be together?”

“I don’t actually know if we still are together.”

“Well, all I know is that the John Watson I have come to know would not sit around in a sad flat in the suburbs moping over something like this, because his boyfriend hasn’t bothered to reach out to him and the boyfriend’s brother has gone in complete overprotective mode as usual and barricaded your former home with secret service. “

John laughs dryly.

“Well, when you put it like that…”

He looks at Lestrade who returns his gaze and it is as if an understanding hits them both at the same time.

“Maybe we should teach them both a lesson?”

It’s John who says it, despite feeling that he might actually rock the very boat he is trying to get back inside. But considering everything and the fact that he is sitting out here in Hounslow rotting away with no other solution in sight, getting back what he has lost while also recovering some of his self-worth as well as Lestrade’s, he feels like there is nothing for him to lose.

So he gets up from the bed and puts his hand forward.

“What do you say? Should we teach those Holmes brothers the lesson of a lifetime? It might actually do them good in the end?”

“If we survive this, and that's a big **if** , I think everything that’s been between us should be put in the past. No more us against each other.”

“Agreed.”

Lestrade rises as well and without hesitation he brings his hand forward and takes John in his.

“Agreed.”


	4. Scheming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestrade and John put their plans into action.

Their plan isn’t as refined as they would have originally liked it to be. They aren’t Holmeses after all, they don’t usually sceme or strategize like the brothers do, so what they initially come up with is also the _only_ thing they come up with. 

They are going to pretend that feelings has developed between them and that they are now dating. 

They count on Sherlock’s curiosity and Mycroft’s spying to deliver the message without having to do that much themselves, except to be seen together doing things that people who date do.  
Nothing sexual of course, there is only so far they are willing to go with this ruse and both of them are sadly still only interested in sexual activities with one specific consulting detective, but the other things, like going to dinner, be seen entering each other’s flats at late hours and generally giving off the impression that they are enjoying each other’s company will surely be enough to drive home the point.

Mycroft in per se won’t care who John Watson is dating and even less so who Greg Lestrade spends his time with, but what he does care about is his brother’s well-being and if Sherlock dislikes this new development (and surely he will) that will cause problems for Mycroft as well. No one can cause trouble like Sherlock Holmes when he wants to, and he will surely blame big brother for this new development, on account of him driving John away from Baker Street.

Lestrade is hesitant at first.  
Isn’t it a bit petty and childish, not to mention cruel, to fool someone like this, however sociopathic and above feelings Sherlock claims to be, they both know that isn’t true. He might actually get hurt.  
But John isn’t as considerate for once. He feels like all the terrible, all-consuming feelings he has been harbouring both before and after he became Sherlock’s boyfriend largely stems from his flatmate’s intricate manipulations of his baser instincts, taking advantage of the jealousy John apparently had slumbering inside him, not only waking it up but also flaming its intensity by his dubious behaviour. 

Lestrade points out that Sherlock really hasn’t done anything out of the ordinary to be the cause for John’s jealousy _after_ they got together, but John has frankly had enough and claims that feelings like these can’t just be stowed away again once they have been woken up.  
Besides, it would feel nice to be able to manipulate Sherlock back for once, let him get a taste of his own medicine. And considering his quite frankly idiotic plan of sleeping with Lestrade’s co-workers to send the detective inspector a message, Lestrade is actually willing to concede that the younger man might be in need of a lesson of his own.

So they start off with going out on a dinner date. 

It feels a bit awkward, because until recently they actually didn’t even like each other, but they are to some extent the same type of people, they enjoy beer and watching sports even if John is more about rugby while Lestrade favours football, they like the occasional classic action-packed movie on the telly, baked beans on toast, lazy Sunday lie-ins and sensible clothes instead of fanciful ones. When they talk it through, they come to the conclusion that neither of them share a single common interest with Sherlock who is the absolute opposite to any of this. 

“How did you actually manage to pull off having a relationship with the man if you have absolutely nothing in common?” Lestrade is quite baffled, taking a huge bite out of his sausage roll, a piece of food which would have Sherlock gagging at the mere sight.

“Well, there was the sex and the cases…” John muses, trying and actually enjoying the local ale of the bar where they have ventured, this very first time on his own home turf in Hounslow, with the promise that Lestrade can take them to his side of town on the next date. 

“Yeah, I can imagine…” Lestrade sighs with a slightly dreamy tone in his voice and earns himself a dark glare from his companion. 

They aren’t actually sure who among the other patrons, if even any, belongs to Mycroft but they make the effort to at least pretend to be intimate, touching hands and tasting each other’s food. It as far as any of them are willing to go on the first date and hopefully it will be enough fodder to be sent to the “minor Government official ”. 

And that’s how it continues. 

They go out to eat when they aren’t to busy with work, they look at sports and the occasional Bond movie on the telly, they take the sporadic coffee when they both happen to be in the vicinity of each other while in the city and they even make a go of holding hands on a brief but clumsily executed occasion. They had planned it in advance but still both felt reluctant about it when the time to do it came, John claiming to not be much for holding hands with anyone despite the fact that Lestrade has actually seen him do it with Sherlock, Lestrade more sticking to the story that he feels the detail of holding hands being a bit too suspicious and might send the signal to the Holmes brothers that something isn’t quite as it should be between them.

“Remember that they are both all about the details,” he says afterwards, when they review the handholding incident that came off as anything but natural and only lasted for a mere 10 seconds before they both released their grip and put their hands in their pockets instead. 

But aside from that small mishap everything else goes as planned and they even learn to not only tolerate but actually sort of like each other, if not more than on a strictly platonic level, considering that neither of them are a dashing genius with raven curls and a swooshing coat, with a penchant for the dramatic and the mind sharp as a scalpel. 

The first night they pretend to sleep with each other takes place in Lestrade’s old bachelor pad which at least is far better than John’s excuse of a flat.  
They don’t know the extent of Mycroft’s surveillance but make sure to at least share the bed, if there might be a CCTV-camera pointed towards the bedroom window.

Neither of them sleep that well because the bed is too small and narrow for two men who don’t wish to come in contact with each other but still need to share the space, but afterwards they feel like they have upped the game at least, sending off the message of intimacies having been ensued. 

Unfortunately, despite their best efforts, there is no response.

Neither Mycroft or Sherlock reach out to any of them and when John checks his blog he can see that the visitors are being redirected to Sherlock’s own website while Lestrade hears that Dimmock has been graced by the consulting detective’s presence on a crime scene while he and his team hasn’t seen so much as the shadow of the man on their cases. 

They meet to confer on these unexpected developments over a coffee on John’s lunch break. To make sure that absolutely no one can listen in on their conversation they sit in Lestrade’s car and huddle over a cup of coffee each, brows deep in confusion and thought.

“This is not exactly the outcome we hoped for, is it?” Lestrade says.

John who is actually hurt by Sherlock’s complete lack of response shakes his head, because he doesn’t understand it.  
Can it be that they only _believed_ Mycroft would be keeping tabs on them but in reality no one has been checking up on them at all?  
Or is this Sherlock’s way of answering to what he must surely see as betrayal, by cutting them both out of his life even more than before? 

But without any real facts they can’t know it this is Mycroft’s doing or Sherlock’s, frankly it could be either one and without actually knowing for sure everything they say is simple speculation. 

“Maybe we should put it to the test and try breaching Mycroft’s ban? Make a visit to Baker Street and get a lay of the land for ourselves? This is clearly not working,” John says and Lestrade nods. Despite coming to terms with the fact that he and Sherlock are likely never going to get together again he at least doesn’t want to lose the man as his friend and as help during investigations, being completely cut out of the man’s life is not at all what Lestrade had in mind when going along with John’s plan of teaching the detective a valuable lesson and if that is what the result will actually be in the end he’s going to kick the former army doctor’s arse to kingdom come.

John himself isn’t willing to accept defeat just yet, he has all sorts of explanations for why things are like they are for the moment, but in his own mind a nagging suspicion ponders the fact that he might have made a mistake by trying to berate his former flatmate. 

So instead of using up more valuable time second-guessing and theorizing without actual facts, they decide to make a joint visit to Baker Street the next day.

If Mycroft’s men still care about John's whereabouts and plan on upholding their threat of physical punishment, at least Lestrade will be with him. 

And if not, well…

Then the pathway to Sherlock will be open for them to venture and require some long-awaited answers.


	5. Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Lestrade head for Baker Street to meet with Sherlock.

When they step out of Lestrade’s car the next afternoon nothing seems conspicuously off with the sight that greets them.  
The street looks just like John remembers it, a few cars passing by, Speedy’s is open across the street, a few pedestrians walking past them, but otherwise it's quite calm and orderly. If someone is watching the place, there is no sight of them and they manage to walk all the way up to the door without being interrupted.

“Seems like the danger is off,” Lestrade says.

“If there actually ever was a threat to begin with,” John mutters, not even wanting to contemplate the fact that a simple lie might have partially kept him away from this place the whole time. Maybe Mycroft has neither had the place under surveillance or even him and his whereabouts checked up on.  
Maybe he had simply counted on his reputation preceding him and clearly it has worked, if that is the reason no men from MI5 are approaching John now as he raises his hand and rings the doorbell. 

After the usual wait Mrs Hudson opens the door.  
She looks surprised first, eyes going wide and her mouth forming a small O, but then she cracks a smile and sighs as if in contentment.

“Oh, John! Where have you been?”

She hugs him and is surprisingly strong for being an old woman, John isn’t sure he ever understood it before. Even more baffling is her genuine surprise at seeing him, it’s like she has been served a reason for his absence and never really expected to see him again, at least not so soon. 

“Is Sherlock home?” he asks, when she releases her grip of him.

“No actually, he’s been out all day, you know what he’s like, always rushing about somewhere,” she says and yes, John does know what he’s like, a warmth spreading in his chest at the memory of it.  
He is suddenly hit by a strong wish to just go all the way back to Hounslow, collect his meagre collection of items and move straight back in here, forget the past weeks ever happened, drop every resentment and ludicrous plan he has been harbouring and simply bury himself in Sherlock’s arms, before dragging the man off to the bedroom and push him down on the bed and ravage him passionately.  
Strangely Lestrade seem to have the same vision in mind if you give his face a closer look. 

“But com in, come in. I’ll get you two some tea. “

While she disappears back to her own flat and the kitchen to put on the kettle, they head up the seventeen steps to the flat. Every step John takes feels like a step closer to paradise, he didn’t know how affected he would become simply by being here again. The smell, the atmosphere, everything is the same and when he opens the door to the living room he is hit by acute sentimentality, because it looks exactly as he remembers it and the logical part of his brain sneers that _“of course it looks the same, it’s only been a couple of weeks and it was always his flat more than it was yours anyway.”_

Lestrade is more hesitant, giving the place a quick once over but then seats himself in the chair usually reserved for clients while John, like a purring cat, lowers himself in his old chair with contentment. 

Sherlock is clearly working on something because there is the usual intricate pattern of red yarn strings connecting different evidence to each other, some of them photos, others are simply notes with something scribbled on them. John wonders how far gone in the process Sherlock might be, if he could possibly be of some help if updated on the details and he already contemplate the photographs as if willing them to give him any information, when he hears Lestrade make a sound next to him.

“What the hell…”

“What? What is it?”

John looks at him as Lestrade gets up from his chair again and approaches the wall.

“This is the Watford robbery.”

“Oh, you know what case he’s working on then? Is it one of Dimmock’s? Mind bringing me up to date perhaps?”

But Lestrade simply shakes his head, clearly having a hard time grasping something that only he is seeing on the wall.

“No…” he finally whispers, turning to John again, clear bafflement in his eyes, “This is one of mine.”

John shakes his head, not following.

“What do you mean one of yours? A cold case?”

“No. A new case. In fact the case me and my team are working on at the moment.”

John manages to look even more confused now, having trouble understanding what Lestrade is saying.  
“What do you mean the case you’re working on now? You said you hadn’t heard from him since the fight, several weeks ago. How can he be working on your case if you haven’t been in contact?”

They stare at each other, thoughts and suspicions whirling between them for a moment, suddenly on opposite sides again, no longer a team but two separate individuals whose trust is as brittle as the newfound friendship between them is. Their originals misgivings about each other are suddenly back in place. But just as John is about to throw the first accusation out in the open a thought hits him, like a meteor crashing to earth and it is as if Lestrade is hit with the same idea simultaneously. 

“Donovan.”

Lestrade shakes his head, clearly not wanting to go there but still not completely dismissing the idea either.

“But I don’t get it. Why would she go behind my back like this?” 

“I don’t know. And the only one who can really explain it isn’t here, but I suggest that we stay and wait for him. Pretend like we don’t know anything. If someone from your team calls, behave like you would have before finding this out.”

“I’m not sure I can do that if _she_ actually calls.”

“Lets hope then that she doesn’t.”

They sit back down in their seats and minutes later Mrs Hudson enters with a tray in her hands, tea and biscuits on display.

“It’s so wonderful to see you again, John. And you as well, Detective Inspector, it’s been ages.”

She chatters on for a while, like nothing is out of the ordinary and the more suspicious it seems that she doesn’t ask John a single question of where he has been and why he simply disappeared from one day to the next, Lestrade had after all claimed that she had been worried when he met her weeks ago. The situation just becomes even more mysterious, what the hell has been going on here exactly?

Finally she leaves but says that they can stay as long as they want.

“I never know when he comes and goes, it might not even be today, but feel free stay and wait. You remember how it used to be, John. Come to think of it, so do you, Detective Inspector.”

And with that she leaves.

John rises as soon as she is gone and marches straight for Sherlock’s bedroom, somehow expecting it to give some clues or at least some evidence of sexual activity going on in there and regrettably a part of his jealousy comes rushing back as if on command. But he actually manages to tamper it down and when he fails to see anything out of the ordinary in there, it quietly fizzles out.

Lestrade turns up behind his back and takes a look around the bedroom as well.

“So this is were all the action takes place, hm? Him and his string of people he has at his beck and call?”

“It actually looks like it always did and I certainly never discovered any asexual activities in our home except for the ones _we_ indulged in.”

Lestrades huffs and turns his back to both John and the room a little too quickly, marching back out into the living room.

John takes the opportunity to go up to his own bedroom to take a look while Lestrade stews in the living room, going over the evidence board once again, clearly annoyed at being outmanoeuvred from his own case by both Sherlock and with most probability Donovan as well. John can hear him mutter something under his breath which sounds suspiciously like _bastards_.

His own room is shockingly bare although that would have been expected since all his stuff is in Hounslow after all, but there is still something sad about seeing his old room like this. Even the bed is simply an iron skeleton with a mattress on it, Mrs Hudson must have removed the duvet, cushions and the rest of the bed linen. It’s like he never even lived there.

 

They end up waiting for almost two more hours before the front door opens, and foot steps are heard on the stairs. It’s several of them in fact and while John and Lestrade anticipatingly turn their faces to the door it finally opens, revealing not only Sherlock but right behind him, also Mycroft.

The two brothers don’t look especially surprised at seeing John and Lestrade, Mycroft doesn’t even look displeased. He simply seats himself on the sofa, adjusting his clothes and planting the umbrella firmly between his knees while Sherlock removes his Belstaff, runs a hand through his curls and then dives inside the kitchen to put on the kettle.  
When he comes back into the room, he nods in greeting to John and Lestrade before seating himself in his own chair. 

John has to admit that Sherlock looks even better than he has been looking in John’s fantasies lately, the same fantasies John has used to occupy himself during his lonely nights in the new flat. There has been everything from make up-sex to angry sex to acts with punishing scenarios keeping him company during the most difficult times, but the Sherlock in front of him now looks nothing like the repentant version he has envisioned while frantically rubbing his member to completion.  
This Sherlock is calm and well put together, secure and seemingly not even curious as to why John and Lestrade are inhabiting his living room after weeks of no contact. Instead he calmly looks at them both, waiting for them to begin talking, because evidently, he isn’t going to do it and neither is Mycroft. ‘

The one who finally break the silence is Lestrade.

He rises from his chair, walks over to the evidence wall and points at it.

“What the hell is this, Sherlock? Why is evidence from a case I am currently working on taped up on your living room wall despite the fact that I have not requested any assistance from you on the matter? In fact, I haven’t spoken to you about work for weeks!”

“Not currently working on, Lestrade. I solved it this afternoon.”

He doesn’t even look smug, like he usually does when revealing that he has worked something out, he just calmly announces it. Lestrade looks gob-smacked though.

“You what? But…Why has no one informed me?!”

Instead of answering Sherlock rises as the kettle announces the water to be sufficiently boiled, heading out into the kitchen. Not surprisingly he returns a minute later with only one cup of tea for himself. Mycroft tuts disapprovingly at this obvious lack of manners, the first sign of him actually being in the room except for his mere physical presence, but of course Sherlock just shrugs, seating himself back in his chair.

“They clearly had some tea recently, provided by Mrs Hudson and you don’t like my tea anyway.” He states but Mycroft is not satisfied.

“Still, manners dictate…”

“Yes, yes, manners. We all know I lack them anyway, no need to start a lecture on the subject, Mycroft.”

Sherlock waves his hand dismissively and the brothers glare at each other as if forgetting the other two men in the room and it isn’t until John tentatively clears his throat that the tension breaks.

“Yes, Sherlock, we all know manners aren’t exactly your area, but explaining the unexplainable and taking people through the intricate web of your thinking usually is. So, what do you say, care to take us through this situation, because frankly, I’m baffled at every new event that turns up.”

Sherlock turns to look at John now, for the first time really looking at him, reluctantly sending a jolt of excitement through John’s abdomen despite his best efforts to remain calm and unaffected until he knows what’s going on here. There is the hint of a smile on the younger man’s lips making it even more difficult for John to keep a straight face, he wishes he could just rise and stride over to where Sherlock is sitting with his bloody tea cup, yank him up and make him go weak by the knees with some serious tongue acrobatics, _but no, stay put, wait for it_.  
Chances, or risks depending on how you look at it, are that when Sherlock opens his mouth and starts talking, the mood will change anyway and John will perhaps be more inclined to smack him over the head than to kiss him.

“There really isn’t much to explain actually,” Sherlock begins, stopping to take s sip of his tea.

“Maybe not according to you, but for the sake of us mere mortals, please indulge us,” John mutters and Lestrade pointedly knocks on the evidence wall yet again.

“Regarding the case, it is correct that you didn’t contact me, Lestrade. In fact, we haven’t been in contact at all since the events that took place in this very room, almost six weeks ago, an event I wasn’t present to observe but have heard of afterwards, most extensively from my brother. “

Sherlock looks expectantly at Lestrade now, who in turn looks confused and even slightly shameful, as if he has done something wrong when not involving Sherlock in his work recently. In Sherlock’s mind that is most likely a cardinal sin.

“Well, I didn’t know how you were faring after…well, everything, since you weren’t answering your phone," Lestrade tries but Sherlock simply shakes his head, making the dark curls bounce seductively, unintentionally on his part, but seductively all the same. John stares at them and feels his throath go dry while Sherlock continues to adress Lestrade.

“That was five weeks ago. One phone call. No further attempts have been made since then.” 

Yes, his tone is decidedly accusing now and Lestrade looks like he is ready to start perspiring any second under the scrutiny of the consulting detective.

“Well, I focused on the fact that John seemed to have gone missing at that same time and well…I got side-tracked a bit…”

“Clearly.”

This time it’s Mycroft who speaks and two Holmes brothers staring at him disapprovingly is more than Lestrade can handle.  
He pulls out a paper tissue from his pocket and wipes his forehead, a small piece of the tissue sticking to his sweaty skin, leaving it there without his knowledge.  
John pities him, Lestrade is clearly not used to being trapped under their laser beam gazes, he’s too kind-hearted for his own good and too weak to stand up against them. Any second now, one of them is going to start ripping him into pieces, so John decides to actually step up and take some of that flack himself or at least try to fight back as well as he can, for both their sake. Sherlock and Mycroft together can be quite ruthless when they want to.

“What Lestrade…I mean _Greg_ …did was actually very kind of him considering the circumstances. He had no reason to care about my well-being after what I put him through, but despite that, he came looking for me and not only that, he dropped the charges as well. “

“We are aware…” Mycroft begins but John cuts him off before he can continue.

“Yes, I understand that you are _aware,_ because you know bloody _everything_. But what you might not grasp about it, is what a truly generous gesture that was and one completely unexpected considering my actions against him. Not only did he drop the charges, he also came looking for me, took the time to clear the air between us and make sure that I was alright. Unlike some others I might mention.”

Sherlock raises one eye brow in surprise, but Mycroft is clearly not willing to take any blame.

“Considering your actions and the frankly poisonous behaviour from you up until that very unfortunate fight, it seems surprising that you would expect any regards for your well-being afterwards. You and I had our talk prior to your move to Hounslow, you knew my stance on the matter and quite frankly I consider myself more generous than you actually deserve, doctor, providing you with assistance to find a new home and collecting your belongings from Baker Street without you having to show up here yourself.”

John winces slightly at this. He can see where Mycroft is coming from but at the same time, he doesn’t want to admit defeat. If he had been allowed to explain himself to Sherlock in his own words…

“Do you really think you could have been able to explain away how you assaulted D.I Lestrade unprovoked on account of your jealousy and then have Sherlock simply forgive you for it?”

Mycroft is clearly not going to cut him any slack and John reluctantly admits that it would probably not have gone down that well. 

“Maybe. I would at least have liked to have had the opportunity to talk to Sherlock. But you threatened me with physical harm if I so much as approached him or Baker Street. “

The last part he throws out there defiantly, perhaps with the wish that Sherlock will not have been aware of this fact or at least as an explanation as to why he hasn’t reached out earlier.  
But Sherlock doesn’t move a muscle. He simply stares at John, waiting for him to come to a point that actually matters.  
Mycroft pick up the gauntlet instead.

“I did do that. But it was up to you to test that theory. Instead you decided to sit and sulk, feeling sorry for yourself out in the suburbs, eventually involving the Detective Inspector in your state of thinking. Although I applaud your ability to work out your differences, both of you seem to have failed figuring out the correct next step to this mess, a clear indicator that Sherlock had no business trying to make contact with either of you. Instead of seeing how he was faring in all of this, you instead embarked on some half-witted plan of conjuring up a pretend relationship between the two of you. A very badly acted-out plan I might add, the stage has hardly missed out on any talent concerning you two. You fooled no one with your silly acting. “

“Now, wait a minute…!” Lestrade tries but Mycroft is having none of it. 

“No. Between the two of you, you decided that the best action out of this mess, a mess that was prominently caused by some sordid jealousy intrigue between you, would be to pretend to be in a relationship with each other, not trying to work things out between everyone but instead trying to complicate matters even more. I’m frankly baffled by this turn of events and not gladly welcoming back into my brother’s life, the presence of people who come with such actions. But Sherlock thought that we at least should hear what you had to say for yourselves, now that you finally decided to reach out to him.”

“He could have reached out himself! I waited…” John tries but Mycroft simply shakes his head and John hears how childish he sounds when trying to explain his own actions. He is surprised how something that had seemed so rational when talking it through with Lestrade some weeks ago, now simply sounds idiotic.

“Why would my brother reach out to a person who has shown clear signs of pathological jealousy and possessiveness to such an extent that it has threatened his very work? A person who furthermore continues to ruin Sherlock's working relationship with the most significant contact my brother has with Scotland Yard by enlisting that same contact on a scheme not only meant to humiliate my brother further, but also prevent him from engaging in further work with the police. “

“He isn’t…I didn’t mean…I was just trying to…teach him a lesson, I guess,” John stammers, anger working its way into his words, it’s a defence mechanism now. “Besides, he found a way around that! He seems to be able to work cases without Lestrade anyway. Using his old methods of manipulating people into doing his bidding. It was exactly this I was trying to teach him a lesson about!”

“And what method of manipulation would that be, John?”

Sherlock finally speaks and John whirls to face him, ready to defend himself. Because they both know what John means God dammit!

“Don’t pretend to be innocent, Sherlock! This is obviously Donovan’s work, who else would provide you information about Lestrade’s case? And we all know you slept with her before, so why not again, when wanting something from her?”

For a second Sherlock looks like he has been slapped across the face hard and if John wasn’t so worked up right about now he would contemplate if he has somehow overstepped a line. But he hasn’t, he knows that, Sherlock has confessed that he used to sleep with Donovan and there is evidence right there on that wall that he must be doing it again.

But why is Sherlock looking at him like that? Like it is John who is doing something wrong here?  
He turns to look at Mycroft but he also looks at John the way someone looks at a cockroach who has climbed up the sink. Even Lestrade seems hesitant.  
John feels the urge to lash out at them, because he hasn’t said anything they weren't both saying two hours ago , but before he gets the opportunity, Sherlock begins to speak.

“It wasn’t Donovan who contacted me. I haven’t slept with her in ages, not after you and I…” he begins but ends it again as soon as he has started talking, mouth falling shut with a bite.

Lestrade cuts in.

“Who provided you with this information then?”

“Anderson.”

“Anderson?!”

They say it almost simultaneously and John immediately begins to question it but Sherlock shoots him down.

“It’s probably why you haven’t heard anything yet, Lestrade. The man is the usual hapless failure when it comes to forensics but turns out he had made a mistake even he couldn’t get out of without his superiors finding out. I’m not going to go into detail exactly what he had managed to do, but it involves bodily fluids and more inappropriate behaviour than usual coming from that man. Suffice to say, he was desperate and apparently I was the only one who could help him. Before this case, I have been forced to make do with Dimmock and his bumbling around crime scenes far less interesting than yours, Lestrade.”

He makes it sound like it is all Lestrade’s fault that he has been forced to make do with far inferior cases than he is used to.

John feels embarrassed about the fact that he immediately jumped to the conclusion that Sherlock was doing something shady to get in on the case work when deprived of both Lestrade and John providing him with his usual flow of cases. And maybe that is the point Mycroft has been trying to make? 

Why would Sherlock reach out to someone who not only has been behaving like a possessive arse during the majority of their relationship, but also assaulted his friend and then, instead of trying to make things right, twists everything around so it is Sherlock who needs to be thought a lesson, and achieves that by pretending to be in a relationship with one of Sherlock's closest friends?  
When thinking about it, he can concede that whatever he has been saying about Sherlock and his idiotic sleeping arrangements, John hasn’t been much better himself, and he can’t even claim to be a “high-functioning sociopath” without any knowledge about simple human behaviour. On the contrary, he’s a doctor for Christ’s sake, he should obviously know better!

He feels the overwhelming need to apologize but there are too many people in the room and he needs the privacy if he’s going to do this right.

“Alright, everybody, except Sherlock, get out!”

Mycroft looks baffled at first, and then like he has swallowed a lemon.

“Doctor, Watson, if you think for a second that I will leave my brother alone with you…”

“Yes, yes, I get it Mycroft, I actually do! But believe me when I say that you have absolutely nothing to worry about. I just need to talk to him and it needs to be done in private. So, please, take your umbrella and Lestrade with you and show yourselves out. “

He turns to Lestrade and nods.

“Thank you for your support during this time. In the end it merely complicated things further but it also thought me to both like you and respect you. I will do my utmost to never treat you the way I did before, if you spot any signs of the old me coming back you have the right to punch me hard. I think we can agree that we both like him equally much, dare I even say love? And you were actually here first, no one can take that away from you. But I am here now and that is in the end what matters. Whatever happens after today, who knows, but for now and until he says otherwise, he is mine and I am his. “

Lestrade nods and is actually the first to respect John’s wishes by leaving. In the door he turns to Sherlock.

“When you’re done here, please call me and tell me everything about the case. I need to know what to expect when I get back to work.”

Sherlock nods and there is a warmth in Lestrade’s eyes as he turns and continues down the stairs.

Mycroft is far more reluctant and it takes John’s whole will power not to physically grab the man and throw him out himself. He respects Mycroft's fraternal worries about his younger brother's weel-being but no one will be able to move on if John can't be alone with Sherlock and resolve this by themselves.

In the end it's Sherlock who gets Mycroft to leave.

“You better do as he says, Mycroft. He has that vein on his forehead which pulsates very much when he is about to lose his temper. It’s beginning to throb quite rapidly by now and I can’t guarantee his actions if you disobey his orders. He was in the army after all.”

Mycroft glares at John and then looks at his brother while slowly rising from his chair, picking up his umbrella.

“I’ll be fine, Mycroft. He might be feisty, but I know martial arts, remember.”

With that he winks at his brother who reluctantly follows in Lestrade’s footsteps.  
When finally left alone, John is unsure of how to proceed. Saying sorry should be appropriate, he actually should have done it straight after the fight with Lestrade, perhaps several times before that even, but it feels difficult to know exactly what to say now.

So Sherlock does it instead.

“I don’t mind you being jealous, John. Most of the time it frankly turns me on a bit, you being all possessive and vocal about it, taking charge. It’s quite refreshing. But it was clearly eating you up inside and I hated to see you like that.”

John approaches the chair where Sherlock is sitting and he positions himself in front of the younger man.

“Did you ever feel jealous when you heard about me and Lestrade?" he asks.

Sherlock snorts.

“Pft, _no_. You were obviously faking. I didn’t bother to watch too closely at the footage, but Mycroft said it looked so forced it was painful to see, your chemistry is, supposedly abysmal.” 

John playfully pushes Sherlock on the shoulder.

“So you don’t get jealous, do you?”

“I don’t know. But I think it would probably go against the rational part of my brain. The likelihood of you hooking up with anyone after having been with me? Frankly I don’t see it.”

He says it teasingly and John flashes his teeth in jest, like a predator warning his victim to not overstep the line between play and insult. The smile on Sherlock’s lips remain but his eyes go serious for a moment.

“I hope you feel that you don’t really need to be jealous, John. I might tease and play and manipulate to an extent, but I never care about anyone except for you. You should know that.”

John takes his finger and puts it against Sherlock’s lips, hushing him. He is done with words now.  
Sherlock looks up at him, questions in his eyes, but before he gets the chance to open up that mouth of his again John pulls him out of the chair and presses their lips together. He takes the time to explore everything he’s been missing for almost six weeks now, feeling himself growing hard as his hands roam over Sherlocks firm body, exploring every memory he has of this man who he now gets to call his own again.

When he releases the lips to gasp for air, he takes a firm hold of Sherlock’s right hand and directs them both towards the bedroom. In the corner of his eye he can see Sherlock opening his mouth again as if to say something and quickly he turns and firmly locks eyes with the others man.

“We have much to talk about, Sherlock, and we will. Soon. But there is a time for talking and this is not it. _Now_ is the time for other things.”

And with that he drags Sherlock with him inside the waiting bedroom, pushing him down on the made up bed and slams the door firmly shut behind them.


End file.
